Healing Hearts (Easton Series #2) (11 page)

Chapter 16

  
S
heriff Roy
Easton didn’t butt in on other folks’ affairs, unless it was for their own
good, and Jed and Hannah clearly needed his nudging. The town’s docs beat the
nation when it came to fixing other people’s ailments, but they groped about,
as blind as newborn kittens, when it came to healing themselves.

  
Roy figured a little prying and
poking never hurt anyone, and a visit to the doctor’s office with a real or
imagined malady was an opportunity to show up uninvited. So, one hot, roughshod
afternoon in early July he strode into the Rutherford-Sutton surgery. He
sauntered past the cot in the kitchen, noting the disheveled blankets. Clearly,
Rutherford hadn’t yet stamped his brand on the woman.

  
“Doc Hannah, can you get a
splinter out of my hand?”

  
Hannah leaned over the lawman’s
splayed palm and squinted. “I see it. Mr. Easton. It’s the third one this
week.”

  
Roy’s blue eyes twinkled. “Ma’am,
it’s the post outside the jailhouse.”

  
Hannah hissed. “Stop touching it!”

  
“It reached out and grabs me. Honest.
Say, did you get the cake Emily brought over?” Emily was Roy’s young
sister-in-law.

  
“Yes, and yes, she mentioned how
handsome Doctor Rutherford is, again. Tell her ‘thank you’.”

  
Rutherford wandered in at that
moment, and when Roy caught his eye he leaned into Hannah and breathed deeply. Observing
the irritation sweep across Jed’s face, Roy grinned. “Miss Hannah, did I ever
tell you about the time Cal and I drove four hundred beeves up to the Missouri
River?”

  
Hannah pulled out the splinter and
poked at Roy’s hard chest. “No. Does this hurt?”

  
“Only on Thursdays. My feet hurt
on Saturday, and my head aches after a night at the Copper Strike saloon. What
have I got, Doc?”

  
“A good imagination,” Hannah
rolled her grey eyes toward the ceiling.

  
Rutherford opened a cabinet in the
corner. He appeared to be searching for something.

  
Roy raised his voice. “I’d say
there’s only one man lacking in imagination around here. But don’t you fret,
Doctor. John Hawkins wrote to his brother.”

  
“And what business is it of yours?”

  
“Hawkins has a bachelor brother,
and he’s of a mind to come to help John, if there’s a woman he can court in
these parts.”

  
A bottle crashed to the floor, and
Rutherford cursed.

  
“You all right, Jed?” Roy called
across the room.

  
“I’m fine,” he growled.

  
Roy figured he was hitting his
mark, so he continued on. “Of course, John has written about you, and his
brother won’t hold you living with a man against you, seeing as Jed is onlys
your business partner.”

  
Hannah blushed. “Mr. Easton, I
have to get on to other chores now.”

  
Roy grimaced and took his hat from
the chair he’d set it on when he entered the room. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” he
reached into his vest and pulled forth a letter. “This came in on the wagon,
and Watkins asked me to bring it over.”

  
Hannah brightened as she
recognized her mother’s handwriting on the envelope. “Thank you, Mr. Easton.”

  
Roy shoved his hat on his head.
“You’re welcome.” He looked over at Jed. “I expect I’ll see you at base ball
practice this afternoon? We’re going to beat Ingston this time.”

  
“Yes. See you there.”

  
Roy tapped his hat brim. His
mission accomplished, he turned and walked out of the office.

  
Hannah sighed, leaned against the
examining table and tore open the correspondence.

  
Dearest Hannah,

  
It was a great joy to
be in receipt of your letter. How happy and satisfied you must be after
bringing new life into the world. What an honor for you to receive a namesake
child in little Rose Hannah!

  
My life continues
it’s amiable path, and I tell you my dear, that my vision begins to fail me, yet
daily walks are a pleasure, and I’m blest with husband and daughters so fine. Joy
swells in my breast with the knowledge you are safe and find purpose in your
work.

  
In one concern I find
I must speak, and I do so to guard your reputation. Your impropriety, in living
in quarters with Doctor Rutherford, must be addressed. A proper unmarried lady
secures another of her gender as bosom friend, confidant, and house companion,
and it troubles my mind to know you are living with a man without matrimonial
security. I fear a future of repentance for the sin of not securing him as
husband, and therefore you must lead him to the altar with haste. I expect
you’ll have married by the time we visit next spring, or I fear your father
will have ugly and disagreeable words with Doctor Rutherford.

  
A good man yields to
the woman he takes to his hearth.

  
Your loving Mother

Hannah
threw the letter on the table in one swift motion.

  
“What’s the matter?” Jed looked up
from the journal he was reading and eyed her curiously.

  
“Oddly, my mother is now playing
matchmaker from afar.”

  
Jed worked his jaw back and forth.
“You won’t be leaving me, will you?”

  
“No. Wounded Colt is my home.”

Chapter 17

  
H
annah was cleaning the surgery. Dust rag in hand, she swept briskly across
a set of books on a shelf, pushing them further into the case. She heard the
thud of falling objects. Hannah reached blindly between two books and groped.
Her hand stilled as though sensing the gravity of her find. Three medicine
bottles. Confirmation of what she suspected shattered her.

  
After painful deliberation, Hannah
decided to replace half the morphine with tiny wheat grains. If he were a mouth
taker, as she believed he was, it would dilute his habit. Hannah tried to tell
herself he no longer needed the drug, because the nightmares had decreased in
frequency and intensity, and, after all, easing him off slowly was the kindest,
most humane way.

  
To this end, she ran the surgery
supply of opiates over to Hawkins hotel, where her friend John agreed to store
it in his safe. She knew she was doing right, but even so she felt a sickening
knot grinding in her stomach.

  
After five days, Hannah checked
the levels of drug in the hidden bottles, only to find Jed had stymied her plan
by taking it at twice his regular rate. She’d erred, not in her intent, but in
her approach. She should have known, as he didn’t exhibit the symptoms of one
who was quitting morphine. Did Jed suspect her intervention? It wasn’t likely,
as he hadn’t moved the bottles.

  
Hannah proceeded to read
everything she could find on the topic of addiction, primarily research tracts from
a noted German physician. She learned that commercial “cures” were fakes
containing an opiate, shrewdly concocted to shift addiction to the peddler’s
product.

  
Yet, there was hope. The German
doctor, Erlenmeyer, had tried two methods to get patients to quit the habit:
The sudden method and the gradual method. His experimentation showed the
gradual method was a trip to purgatory; it spread the patient’s suffering over
weeks and months. Erlenmeyer’s sudden weaning method was more effective,
however dangerous, as wild delirium, manias, and collapse were likely, and thus
the patient had to be guarded against self-injury. His patients endured the worst
effects of morphine weaning for about one week; freedom from the drug’s bondage
required a strong will and the help of friends.

  
Did she have the courage and had
she earned his trust? Would he buck the idea or put his hands up in surrender?
He was a proud man. Hannah spent a great deal of time reflecting on her growing
feelings for Jed Rutherford.

  
She decided she’d commit her
effort to curing his addiction,
if
he’d cooperate. He had to be as ready as she was. Hannah’s new emotions were so
much stronger than fear. She’d taken personal risks before, but always with a
colleague to back her up, and never one so great as crossing the man she was
hoping to work with well into the future. If she failed she’d have to leave
Wounded Colt.

  
After painful deliberation, Hannah
confronted Jed one evening as they stood outside watching a blazing sunset. She
set her hands on her hips, inhaled deeply, and her skirt rustled as she turned
to face his strong profile.

  
“You have the marks of morphinism.”
She held her breath. “Don’t deny it.”
 

  
Orange light illuminated his tight
grimace, telling her he was caught red-handed and flat-footed. “It’s no
business of yours.”

  
“It
is
my concern. I live and work with you. You’re my only family
here.”

  
Jed slumped in defeat. He cast his
eyes down to his feet.

  
“How much?” she asked.

   
“I’m down to seven grains a
day.”

  
Hannah recalled the case studies
she’d read. “That’s good.”

  
He looked away from her and
nodded. “I never meant for it to own me.”

  
Hannah’s gray eyes were misty. “Of
course not. I can help you.”

  
“Look, I’ve seen men try to quit.
You can’t handle it by yourself, and it could kill me.”

  
Hannah frowned. Her heart pounded,
and she twisted her damp palms into fists. “You don’t trust me?”

  
He sighed. “I trust you plenty,
but the fact is I’m bigger and stronger than you.”

  
“Roy Easton and John Hawkins will
help me,” she squeaked. She unclenched her hands and bit her lower lip.

  
“I don’t want the whole town to
know my personal weakness!”

  
“Sir, I believe some already do.
Or they suspect,” she whispered. “And, sir, it’s not a weakness. It’s due to
your strength. Your suffering is due to introspection, and looking back at what
you wish you could change. It means you are a good person at heart. If you
didn’t suffer, if you didn’t feel anything, you wouldn’t be human. You’d be a
lunatic.”

  
“You do have a bedside manner,
Doctor Sutton.” He looked up at the sky. “Hell. During the war all the docs
were slugging whiskey or taking morphine. They’d give placebos to the men to
save enough for themselves. Some were able to leave off of it after the war.”
He looked at his boots. “I’m working on it.”

  
“You can’t do it alone.”

  
“I used to think I could.”

  
“Did your old partner know?
Chandler?”

  
“Yes. He thought leaving me would
force me to end it. He figured I’d have to quit on my own . . . but I couldn’t.
Instead I sent for another doctor. I didn’t count on getting one so damn brilliant
at diagnosing her partner’s shortcomings.”

  
His backhanded praise pleased her.
“Doctor, now is the best time. You have me to oversee your treatment. I’ll take
the best care of you. You know that.”

  
He eyed her keenly. “Yes. I
believe you would. Let me sleep on it.”

  
Hannah felt defeated. He was
putting her off. She crossed her fingers behind her back. “Don’t take too long,
Doctor. My six months are up in October.”

  
“I thought you –“

 
  
“I’ll consider staying when you’re
cured.” Her voice was bold and purposeful. “Excuse me,” she turned on her heel
and marched back inside the house, where she furiously penned a letter.

Dearest Mother,

  
I am well and stand confused
regarding your words about Doctor Rutherford and necessity of marriage. Jed is
my work partner, and for reasons I can’t disclose he will be nothing more.
Furthermore, do you not recall that owing to my physical deficits, Father
barred my marriage to Joseph Smith two years ago? Have you lost your memory?

  
You write, ‘a good
man yields to the woman he takes to his hearth’, but what when there is no
passion in the hearth?

  
Without the act there
can be no sin, and no stain to my reputation. I submit to no mortal judgment.

Your loving daughter,

Hannah

Hannah
sobbed and stuffed the letter into a pigeonhole in the writing desk Rutherford
had assigned her in a corner of the parlor. She knew she’d never send it.

  
Her life wasn’t what she expected it
would be. Did Cole know he was sending her into such a position, where her
heart would embrace the man and his challenge -- all while her training told
her to run away, far away, from such trouble?
 

  
She ascended the stairs to seek
comfort under her blankets.